


The Fight is Done

by darkesky



Series: Sickness at Garreg Mach [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Sickfic, blue lions - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:15:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22329937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkesky/pseuds/darkesky
Summary: He wanted the warmth of the fireplaces in Lonato's manor, he wanted the familiar cadence of Christophe telling stories, he wanted his little siblings tucked into his side, he wanted to huddle beneath the quilts bearing Lonato's Crest, the one he promised he shared with Ashe even if blood hadn't allowed him to do exactly that.A hot tear fled down his cheek, and Ashe sniffled. He didn’t want to start crying. He told himself he wasn’t going to cry over this. Sure, everything might ache, but it didn’t mean he should curl up in a fetal position. He wanted to be a knight, for Seiros’ sake! And knights didn’t fall to a little illness!Before he could doubt himself, he reached out and knocked against Dedue’s door.---The sickness keeps tearing down walls, and Ashe finds himself defenseless to his memories.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert & Lonato, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert
Series: Sickness at Garreg Mach [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599064
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	The Fight is Done

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't even realize how messy Ashe's family life is until trying to write this fic. Like,,, what even happened to his younger siblings? Didn't they live with Lonato? So, what's up with that? Poor Ashe, he deserves better. (Also he's totally the baby of the Blue Lions, I don't make the rules. Annette and Ashe share the role, but Ashe is like the primarily baby of the family.)

_ Fumbling, he yanked the hood over his head and sunk back into the shadows. Even before he left the house, his parents tried to stop him. They warned him against going down this path, they lectured him about the circle of life, they told him what a poor example he was setting. But all he saw when he looked in their eyes, glazed over by fevers, was the inevitable heartbreak to come. _

_ If Ashe wanted to protect his siblings, shouldn’t he protect them by warding off death? _

_ The rain helped his cause today. Everyone walked with their shoulders hunched and their bodies folded in on themselves. He didn’t stand out, and it helped him keep the obscurity. If he succeeded, he knew he could go straight to the kind doctor who said he could only give away the medicine if he paid for it at half price.  _

_ (And boy, was haggling hard with that merchant! The redhead was deadset on making sure he paid full price. It was only when he started wobbling his lip and speaking of his willingness to ‘travel to the next town and score medicine for cheaper’ she backed down.) _

_ In front of one of the taverns, a drunk man listed to the side, trying to catch himself against the pole. The woman by his side gave an unimpressed look. “If you insist on drinking this much, I’m going to leave you by yourself.” _

_ “My darling,” he slurred, “today is a day of celebration!” _

_ On his hip, Ashe could make out the glimmer of a coin purse. He crept closer, careful to stay with the group of men still hurrying in front of him. If he stepped out on his own to go to the tavern, he’d get a few odd looks. Ashe knew he wasn’t the tallest, and he certainly didn’t look old enough to start drinking. They didn’t exactly enforce those laws, but he still knew better than to try and challenge it. _

_ He tried to steel up his resolve, but it only mattered so much. Ashe had done this before despite his parents’ complaints. He just couldn’t… They might be ready to accept his death, but he wasn’t! Nobody should die so young. Nobody should leave behind their three children when one of them was barely old enough to start walking, and he certainly wasn’t old enough to take care of them and the restaurant— _

_ Biting down on his lip, Ashe prevented the gasp from escaping. Right. The restaurant wasn’t theirs anymore. When the landlord first swung by, he was greeted with the smell of bile and disease. The man nodded and didn’t relent on his payment. He told Ashe he might be a ‘good kid, but he couldn’t afford letting a kid run one of his properties.’ And just like that, they lost the restaurant. _

_ He couldn’t lose anything else. _

_ With his mind made up, Ashe ducked into one of the alleyways and waited for the couple to start moving. After a few moments, the woman finally sighed and started dragging him away from the tavern. “You’ve had enough. We’re going home.” _

_ “But it’s a day of celebration!” he chortled, lifting an invisible glass to the sky. _

_ Ashe took his cue. Slipping out of the shadows, he darted up behind the two of them. With a nimble hand, he unhooked the coinpurse from the man’s hip and ducked it into his own cloak. Then, he started to walk towards the old bookstore. Going straight to the doctor’s would be unwise; that’s where most of the thieves wandered. _

_ And… _

_ “Thief!” cried the woman, and he started sprinting. _

_ - _

Someone knocked his elbow out from underneath him, and Ashe’s chin smashed against the book. He blinked until the blurry image of Annette crystalized. When she offered a shit-eating smile, he spluttered through the blush dancing across his cheeks. “‘M awake!”

“I can tell.” Stretching across the divide between them, she bopped him on the nose. He sneezed. “Do you wanna head back to your room? I can review the angles without you.”

“You’re not an archer! I got this!” As he dragged a hand across his face, he made his most studious face and focused on the page. Even though his eyes burned and his nose itched, he wasn’t going to sneeze. He traced a lazy finger over the angle. “See? To get that one to the enemy, you’d have to fire it at a…”

“At what?” Annette fluttered her eyelashes innocently.

He stuck out his tongue before snorting out a laugh. “Uh, ninety.”

“Ninety degrees?” Judging by the laugh she tried to suppress, he knew he got it wrong. Annette made a face before shooting an invisible arrow straight up. “Straight skybound will get those nasty bandits, right?”

“Oh…” Ashe grabbed one of the pillows and buried his face in it as Annette started giggling louder. 

In the center of her room, Annette constructed what they affectionately nicknamed the ‘Study Nest.’ Usually, Annette built it with Mercedes, and then Ashe would join them later on. Since she’s been restricted to her room due to her own sniffles, Annette spent the entire day making it as lavish as possible. She piled pillows and blankets as high as possible. The sheer amount suggested she persuaded the other rooms nearby to give up a few pillows (and Ashe would give  _ anything  _ to see Bernadetta or Lysithea’s reaction to the request). 

Underneath one of the blankets, her foot nudged his calf. He yelped and scrambled away. “Why are you so  _ cold?” _

“Because you have a fever.” She grinned and pressed both feet against his leg. 

He wrinkled his nose. “So do you!”

“You have a worse one. Guess you’re special.” Annette finger-gunned him.

It took a moment too long to connect where he saw that image before. When it finally came to him, he spluttered it out between laughs. “You looked like Sylvain!”

“Shut up! I do not!” She flung a pillow at his face. It hit him and bowled him over, but he still didn’t stop laughing. When Annette closed the distance between him to start wrestling, he immediately started trying to pin her to the ground. He remembered how this game went with his little sister.

Then, he sneezed in her face, and she gave him a horrified look. A spark rolled off her skin, singing his fingertips. Ashe pushed away and nursed them to his chest, blinking at her in shock. 

As both of them blurted out apologies, the door thundered with a knock. Annette found her voice first. “Come in?”

The door crept open to reveal the crown prince, and Ashe felt his face grow hotter. He buried his face in his hands, ignoring the tingling sensation coming from his fingertips (Annette’s accidental magic had gotten a  _ whole lot stronger  _ this year). Annette nudged him with her foot, but he made no effort to move. 

“I’m glad to see you two are feeling better,” Dimitri said awkwardly. 

Annette let out a chirpy noise of agreement, and he knew she’d die of embarrassment the second Dimitri left. “Yep! Ha, we’re… We’re studying tactics like you said we should do if we’re feeling bad!”

“I’m glad to hear it… May I join?” 

Lifting his head, Ashe made direct eye contact with Dimitri. He ducked his head. “Of course, Your Highness! I’m not sure… I’m not sure how helpful it’ll be for you, but…”

“And you don’t have to sit on the floor!” interjected Annette. She sat up from the pillow fort they constructed around them, staring at her bed. She stripped away all of the blankets until only the sheets remained. “Uh… I can make my bed really fast for you, Your Highness!”

“You don’t have to change anything for me. And please,  _ both  _ of you can call me Dimitri. I don’t mind, truly.” He offered both of them kind smiles before easing down to their nest, sitting down stiffly.

Ashe suppressed a laugh. “Lord Lonato would kill me if he knew I called you Dimitri…”

As he finished the sentence and Annette offered him a horrified glance, Ashe slapped a hand over his mouth. Oh.  _ Oh.  _

“Peace, Ashe. It’s alright.” Dimitri pointedly tried to make himself more comfortable in the nest, but he still seemed  _ completely  _ out of place. “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” He kept his eyes trained on the hems of his sleeves. The jacket itself seemed like a war crime in front of Dimitri. For the most part, he kept all artifacts of his old life tucked away… Especially after Lonato’s rebellion. But his nose burned and his head pounded and his skin itched this morning, and he dug Lonato’s old coat from the bottom of his closet. When he slipped into it, despite it being several sizes too big and flopping over his hands and knees, he felt  _ better. _

And now, he wanted to go and light it on fire.

Annette flipped open a textbook, rapping her finger against its page loudly. “Okay! Studying time! Um, we’re looking at ballistas right now. I know that’s more Ashe’s area of expertise, but I’m trying to get it down.”

“I wish I had half your drive to go outside your comfort zone,” Dimitri noted. “I’m barely willing to part with my lance!”

“And I wish I had your skill! I’m decent at magic, but Lysithea can still run circles around me!” she countered sincerely.

Ashe forced down the bile growing in his throat at the mention of Lonato and flashed a smile. He grieved long enough; for two weeks, he isolated himself to his room and the monastery, praying for his adopted father. Everyone gave him enough grace, enough space to mourn. “Oh, c’mon, Annette, you’re  _ so  _ good at magic. Case in point…” He tapped his fingertips against one another.

She pointed at him. “You deserved the shock!”

“Did I?” He grinned.

Dimitri glanced back and forth between them, obviously confused by their conversation. In the end, though, he simply smiled to himself and settled back to take part. In that small action, his shoulders relaxed, and he looked more at home than he had before.

_ (And later, Ashe would admire him greatly when he realized just how nasally the two of them sounded and how often one of them needed to blow their nose. If Dimitri got sick, Ashe would feel responsible.) _

-

_ “Are you sick, Ashe?” _

_ Ashe wobbled on the top of the ladder, almost tearing it away from the bookshelf. He mumbled a soft curse, nothing explicit enough to get in trouble, and forced it back. The bundle of books in his arms threatened to throw themselves to the ground. Pressing the books bound in gold against his chest, he shifted away to offer a huge smile. “Who, me? Nope! I don’t get sick, Christophe!” _

_ “Uh huh.” Christophe raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.  _

_ He found himself pouting before he could help it. “C’mon, don’t you believe me? Your favorite little brother?” _

_ “You can be my favorite again when you go and take some medicine. So, you come on. Give me some of those books, and let’s go see Father together.” Offering a hand up the ladder, Christophe gave him an imploring look. _

_ Blinking several times, Ashe hesitated. “Do you… Have medicine to waste on me?” _

_ “‘Waste?’” he echoed. _

_ He nodded. “Medicine’s expensive, and I’m not even all that sick. It’s just… Just a little stuffy nose and a little ache in my bones, but I can handle worse! I have handled worse, I promise, Christophe! It’s nothing life-threatening—”  _

_ “I’m going to stop you there. You  _ feel  _ sick, right?” Christophe waited for Ashe to nod again. “Then, that’s enough to warrant medicine. It’s not a waste to make you feel better. So, come on down.” _

_ “But—” _

_ “Ashe, don’t make me drag you down here.” He smiled, and Ashe reluctantly pushed the book stack into an empty space. He’d have to restock it later… Or, judging by the way Christophe’s eyes lingered just a little too long on their position, Christophe would restock them and pretend he didn’t know who did that.  _

_ As he climbed down the ladder, he kept his gaze trained on the books to ignore the blush rising in his cheeks. He didn’t need to get babied; he didn’t even need the medicine! He just thought it’d be easier to pretend nothing was wrong. And besides, his baby siblings would have freaked out if they knew he felt sick. Ever since… Since… Well, after Lonato had to adopt them, they’ve been hyper aware of every little bug. _

_ His foot caught nothing for a second, and he yelped as the ground beneath him disappeared. The ladder tipped backwards as he plummeted downwards. He must’ve missed a rung. Bracing himself, he waited to get his wind knocked out of him. _

_ Christophe caught him and pushed the ladder away easily. “Not sick, huh?” _

_ “Do you think you can… Not tell the little ones?” Ashe kept his eyes trained on the ground. _

_ Then, his brother’s hands settled on his shoulders, and Christophe took a knee in front of him. When Ashe still refused to look at him, he cleared his throat. “There’s no shame in admitting you feel sick. And there’s no shame in taking medicine.” _

_ “It’s not about that…” _

_ Christophe pressed his cool forehead against Ashe’s feverish one. “There’s no shame in feeling sick when it’s not life and death. I know you didn’t have the resources to take care of minor illnesses… And I’m dearly sorry for that. If it was up to me, I’d tear down the whole kingdom to keep kids like you from suffering.” _

_ “Christophe, you can’t mean that!” He found Christophe’s gaze, but he didn’t find any humor there. _

_ But he smiled. “I would. You deserve a whole lot better than what you got, Ashe. But I can help you right now, so that’s what I’m going to do. Okay?” _

_ - _

Ashe felt his whole body starting to droop in on itself, and tears started prickling in the back of his eyes. Did he…  _ Had  _ he always known what Christophe was willing to do? He tried to push away the memories, but they kept coming back to him. He wanted the warmth of the fireplaces in Lonato’s manor, he wanted the familiar cadence of Christophe telling stories, he wanted his little siblings tucked into his side, he wanted to huddle beneath the quilts bearing Lonato’s Crest, the one he promised he shared with Ashe even if blood hadn’t allowed him to do exactly that.

A hot tear fled down his cheek, and Ashe sniffled. He didn’t want to start crying. He told himself he wasn’t going to cry over  _ this.  _ Sure, everything might ache, but it didn’t mean he should curl up in a fetal position. He wanted to be a  _ knight,  _ for Seiros’ sake! And knights didn’t fall to a little illness!

Before he could doubt himself, he reached out and knocked against Dedue’s door. Dedue had mentioned in class he doubted he would get sick due to his origins before he got drowned out by the silent judgments. And the idea of getting someone sick or  _ sicker  _ in Annette’s case kept him from shuffling his way down to her door again. 

He almost ran away when the door didn’t open right away. And when the door did open to reveal Mercedes, Dimitri and Dedue, he almost  _ did  _ sprint away. Sure, he might’ve stumbled and landed on his face, but he’d prefer it to the startled looks. He  _ clearly  _ interrupted something.

“I didn’t realize you’re busy, sorry,” he forced out before starting to back up.

Mercedes sprung to her feet and shook her head. “You’re always welcome… Er, if Dedue is okay with it. I suppose this  _ is  _ his chambers.”

“It’s up to His Highness,” Dedue responded. The man sat at his desk, the chair spun around to the informal counsel the three of them had made. Dimitri still sat on the bed, and judging by the divet in the mattress, Mercedes sat right beside him.

Dimitri studied him for a long moment. “Are you feeling alright, Ashe?”

“I… Of course!” He got out right as he started crying again. 

As Dedue and Dimitri stared at him in complete shock, Mercedes pulled him into a big hug. He tried to stop crying, blubbering out wet apologies and promises to go back to his room and whatever else he thought they needed to hear. Mercedes simply shushed him and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re burning up, sweetie. Do you need to go down to the infirmary? I’m sure she has medicine and—” 

This time, he couldn’t keep the watery sob from ripping through his throat. For a second, he felt like he was thirteen years old again, his older brother bracing him to keep him from swaying. But when the feeling passed, leaving him winded, his older brother was  _ long  _ gone. And with him, he took Lonato with him. And he couldn’t turn to his parents, and he couldn’t even write to his younger siblings… Oh, goddess, if they knew he was sick, they would try and storm their way into the monastery.

So, he didn’t even have any family  _ left  _ to go to; he was just sobbing into Mercedes’ chest and completely soiling her clothes and ruining everything because he was still a baby, the absolute  _ farthest  _ he could be from a knight and—

“Hey, don’t say that.” Dimitri’s voice took on the authoritative note he only ever assumed on the battlefield. Ashe swallowed the words still streaming past his lips, hiccuping and glancing over Mercedes’ shoulder. “Ashe, anyone would be lucky to have you as a knight for them. You’re noble and kind and you work so much harder than you need to… This is a week of rest, and I’ll be damned if any of my lions burn themselves up.”

“But I’m just… Overreacting.” He sniffled.

Mercedes bowed out, letting Dimitri take over. The crown prince offered his kindest smile, an odd contrast to the sternness still written all across his face. “I don’t care if you’re overreacting. It’s hard being away from family, and you’ve been through a lot over these past few months. But… I hope you realize you still have a family in the Blue Lions. And  _ because  _ you feel too sick to inform your siblings, we’ll do what any good sibling ought to and take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay.” He wiped at his face, and despite how  _ gross  _ he must look, Dimitri caught his hands.

Dimitri studied his face for a long moment before nodding. “Mercedes, can you take him down to the infirmary for me? Dedue and I will finish up this meeting without you… We’ll inform you of the outcome. And I’ll visit you the second I finish. Okay, Ashe?”

“Okay, Your Highness…” The words felt wrong on his tongue for the first time, and he gave a weak smile. “Thank you, Dimitri.”

“C’mon, Ashe.” Mercedes offered her hand to him, and he took it gratefully. “Let’s go make you feel better.”

-

_ Ashe paced in front of Lonato’s door, the pill bottle clasped in his right hand and the storybook tucked underneath his left arm. Was it childish? What felt like years ago, Lonato always arrived with this combination to help make Ashe feel better. And then, he would kiss Ashe on the forehead and promise him he’d feel better soon. _

_ Goddess, the idea of telling Lonato he would feel better was torture. How could he ever feel better? How could he ever reassure a man who just buried his  _ son  _ life would eventually get better? Christophe didn’t even get a proper funeral. Since he was a criminal and a traitor to the church, he didn’t get the lavish funeral Ashe attended for other nobles. And he definitely died before his time. Knowing Christophe had to get  _ executed,  _ knowing Christophe could still be alive and well if he just made different decisions… _

_ Ashe understood why Lonato kept refusing to eat. And Ashe understood why his stomach tied into knots. And he understood why Lonato banished himself into the room to grieve, far away from Ashe and his siblings.  _

_ But his siblings didn’t. _

_ He doesn’t know how long he stood there before his sister came charging up to him, tugging on his arm. She stared at him wildly, eyes dark and stained with tears still. “Why doesn’t Father leave his bedroom anymore?” _

_ And that stung more than anything else. Because Lonato always told the three of them they could call him whatever they wanted. Lord Lonato, Lonato, Father… It was up to them. And both of his siblings took to calling him Father after a few years. After all, his brother told him, if Christophe, their  _ brother,  _ called Lonato their father, why shouldn’t they? _

_ ‘Because of Mom and Dad,’ Ashe wanted to say. ‘Because Lonato is great, and I love him, but he could never fill their space. He just… Found a new space.’ _

_ “It’s nothing against you,” he finally told his sister as she resorted to whining loudly. He glanced at the imposing door before turning his back on it. He wouldn’t be able to persuade Lonato out today… He might never be able to sway him out. Once upon a time, a doctor told him people could die of a broken heart. That’s why spouses died one after each other when they were sick in their village; why fight to survive when the love of your life was dead? Could that happen to Lonato? _

_ No. Ashe told his siblings the same thing he told himself now. His parents didn’t die of a broken heart. They might have loved each other, but they loved the three siblings too. They died because the world was unfair sometimes. And Lonato loved them, even if they paled in comparison to Christophe.  _

_ She grabbed at his arm again, and he almost dropped the pill bottle. “Then why doesn’t he see us anymore?” _

_ “He just…” Ashe searched for the words. “He wishes Christophe was here.” _

_ “But you said Christophe was with Mom and Dad,” she protested. “He went to the  _ good  _ place. If anything, Christophe should want us there with  _ him!”

_ And Ashe sucked in a breath and prayed he didn’t cry. _

-

Was Ashe even allowed to grieve Lonato this bitterly? In the end, he wasn’t his son. He abandoned the family; Lonato didn’t need to say it as he lay dying for the words to be clear in his eyes. Lonato gave Ashe  _ everything,  _ but his everything had always been Christophe. Shouldn’t he have fought for Lonato? Shouldn’t he have…

“You’re thinking too loud,” Mercedes murmured.

He swiped at his face again, trying to mask the tears starting to swell again. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head right now… But I don’t like how dark it seems to be.” She squeezed his hand tighter. “You’re a light in all of our lives, Ashe. Don’t forget that, and don’t forget to hold onto that.”

“I know…” 

Shaking her head, Mercedes gave him a long look. “Do you?”

Before Ashe could try and muster up some kind of response, she spun him around and placed him down on a bed. Felix lifted his head from the vigil he put on Sylvain, giving her an unamused look. Mercedes seemed to completely miss it, completely miss the way Felix gave him a look that made Ashe want to curl in on himself. “Felix, can you keep an eye on him? I need to go find Manuela… Update her on the condition of the house.”

Ashe saw the way Felix searched for a way to say no to Mercedes. He folded his arms over his chest and looked down. He could give Felix an out. He wouldn’t want to deal with some big crybaby, especially if he was as cool and stoic as Felix. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Judging by the look Mercedes gave him, she didn’t buy it for a second. She turned her pleading glance back to him. “Please, Felix. I won’t be long.”

“Fine.” Felix leant back in the chair, turning in a way to make it clear he didn’t want any conversation.

Ashe’s eyes skipped past Felix to Sylvain. The last mission they went on was to slay Miklan. Afterwards, he tried to find the redhead and offer some small word of comfort. Because Sylvain brushed it off with a bright smile and clapping him on the shoulder.  _ ‘Unlike Lonato, my brother was in no way a good man, and I’ve never tried to think otherwise. I have no reason to mourn him.’ _

Ashe remembered staring at Sylvain as he walked away, his mind focused too greatly on his words on Lonato. Because Lonato  _ was  _ a good man. But in more senses than one, it all existed in the past. Nobody would call his death a good one. Nobody could call a dead man good. He wanted to ask Sylvain, but Sylvain had enough on his plate. Besides, what answer did Ashe want to hear? If he condemned Lonato, maybe he’d feel better about helping to kill him. But how could he have let Lonato descend into such darkness without noticing? And if he defended Lonato, how could he have  _ killed him? _

“What are you  _ doing?”  _

It took Ashe a second to realize he started crying again. Then, he covered his face and forced out another stream of apologies. This time… This time, he’d actually shut up and stop crying. For once. 

But Felix raised his voice over Ashe’s faltering breaths and asked what he was crying about.

Ashe whimpered. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but he had to explain it. He  _ owed  _ Felix an explanation. “I wanna… I keep thinking I wanna go home, but I… Lonato…”

Would Lonato even  _ let  _ him come back home? Or would Lonato tell him to leave? Well… He supposed it didn’t even matter. He couldn’t stay in Lonato’s estate. They might be officially adopted, but their family was just peasants. They couldn’t inherit anything, and who was Ashe to try and push for it when… When he was the  _ reason  _ it even needed to be inherited…?

“—that book you lent to me.” Felix’s voice came out shaky, unsure. He never sounded like that.

Ashe forced his voice to steady itself. “What?”

“The book,” Felix continued hoarsely, picking out each word carefully. He coughed before pressing onwards. “It was a good story… I remember hearing it from… My brother told me the story a long time ago, but that particular retelling caught my attention. I see why you like it.”

And Ashe didn’t know he had a brother. Then, a knife twisted in his gut because there was only ever one reason people didn’t talk about their siblings. Even Hilda, who tried to avoid mention of hers, gushed about Holst on the odd occasion. Even  _ Sylvain  _ brought up Miklan. But Felix brought up his brother as much as Ashe brought up Christophe, and…

For what felt to be the millionth time that day, someone held Ashe’s shoulders to keep him from crying. “You’re being overemotional… I’m guessing you don’t feel great.”

“I…” Ashe felt his weight shift, and he couldn’t even attempt to catch himself as he fell into Felix. The second he hit, though, he scrambled to get closer. Because he was  _ tired  _ of being surrounded by the ghosts of his family. “Everything  _ hurts.  _ I… My skin seems to itch, and I… I can’t sleep because everything  _ hurts,  _ and Mercedes said I needed to rest, but I  _ can’t…  _ I want Lonato.”

And the second the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Felix pushed him away, but his mind kept spinning back to Lonato. He couldn’t want Lonato. Lonato was a traitor. Lonato was a menace to society. Lonato was… Felix was a noble with a father who lost a son, and his father hadn’t gone off the rails. Goddess, to most of the world, his brother helped  _ orchestrate  _ the way Felix lost his family. If he knew he mourned Christophe, would Felix hate him too?

When Felix laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, pushing him onto the cot, there was no malice in his eyes, and Ashe choked. “How about you get some rest?”

“Felix, I  _ can’t,”  _ he said instantly.

Felix shook his head. “No, I can… Remember that book you lent to me? How about I tell you the story? It might be a little different, but…”

And suddenly, Ashe was falling into the comfort of an old story, pushing away all thoughts of his family. Because in the story, all there was were knights and nobility. There wasn’t any messy lines. There wasn’t anything but fantasy, black and white and gray banished far away.

Ashe fell asleep somewhere between black and white anyway.

-

“I want to send a letter to Ashe’s siblings,” Annette mentioned in the classroom the next day, startling all of them out of the mournful silence which had taken over. Even though Hanneman promised to teach them despite the absences, none of them felt the drive. There were too many gaps in the class, and with Annette’s sniffling, there were too many reminders there. 

Ingrid slowly nodded. “And to Felix and Sylvain’s fathers. They deserve to decide whether they recover at the monastery or at home.”

“Wait… You haven’t sent out any letters to their families already?” Mercedes looked up from her textbook, confusion sparkling in her eyes. “I assumed… Manuela told me you had already taken care of it when I broached the topic with her.”

“I haven’t.” Ingrid turned in her seat to face Dimitri. 

The crown prince stayed staring forward, careful not to meet any of their eyes. “There might be a… Slight problem with communication right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> okay, i'm like 90% sure the next one is going to be Ferdinand so we can finally have Black Eagles love (I promise I like their house too!! My favorite used to be the Golden Deer, but maaaaan did the Blue Lions grow on me) (tho Claude is still my favorite, rip edelgard and Dimitri)  
> Also, why do like all of the boys in the Blue Lions belong to the dead older brother club? Ashe with Christophe, Sylvain with Miklan, Felix with Glenn... Get them all therapy.


End file.
